by CW Browning
“Dave’s dead. I don’t think he really cares what goes on down here,” she said, her voice even and flat. “I needed someone I could trust, and Michael was available. Nothing poetic about it.”
“Charges are activated. You have five minutes.”
Hawk’s voice was low in her ear and Viper glanced at her watch, pressing the button to start the countdown. There was no more time for conversation. She had to finish this now.
Straightening up, she swiftly moved towards the bar.
Hawk heard Harry's voice through his earbud and rage rolled through him, catching him by surprise. It was the same voice that had barked orders at them over a loud-speaker on the training grounds. It was also the same voice that Hawk had had long conversations with over the past few years, a voice that had offered both wisdom and encouragement when it was needed. It was the voice of a hero and teacher, and now, the voice of the enemy. The smug bastard had gotten away with too much for far too long. Not only was he a traitor, but he’d compounded that felony by going after Viper.
Surprised by the anger rushing through him, Damon paused in the corridor. For the first time, he suddenly understood and appreciated why Alina had been so angry when John was killed. Gunshots popped in his ear and his jaw clenched. The thought of losing Viper tonight filled him with an almost uncontrollable rage. Harry could not be allowed to win.
Hawk’s thumb moved over the button and he pressed it without any further hesitation.
“Charges are activated. You have five minutes.”
With that, Hawk reached the stairwell leading up to the stern. He jogged up the stairs and moved down the walkway until he reached the small closet where he had concealed the bag with his breathing tank. He had just strapped it on his back and slid the mask over his face when Viper spoke.
“Why do they always try to justify themselves?” she asked in a low voice, surprising a low chuckle out of him.
“To make themselves feel superior,” he replied. “Or to distract you. Be careful. He perfected that years ago.”
“Tell me when you’re clear.”
She sounded breathless and no sooner had she spoke then there was the sound of breaking glass. A few seconds later, he heard her gasp and then let out an involuntary cry of pain. His heart stopped for second and then thudded heavily in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to go back and help her, but he knew he couldn’t. One of them had to make it off the ship. He had to stick to the plan.
He was striding down the walkway towards the stern when a shadow moved out at the end, holding a rifle. Without breaking stride, Hawk pulled out his own weapon and fired rapidly in succession. The figure fell backwards and the rifle dropped harmlessly onto the floor. Hawk strode past the body without a glance, heading for the edge of the deck. Reaching the railing he looked at the black waves lapping against the stationary ship.
“The ship is all yours,” he said, gripping the railing with one hand. “Make it count.”
“You know I will.”
Damon smiled faintly. “I’ll see you soon.”
And with that he vaulted over the railing and into the ocean.
““Out of curiosity, when did you know it was me?”
Harry called the question from behind the bar as Viper moved silently across the room. She smiled faintly. He was trying to determine where she was, just as she had when he spoke.
“I suspected when I was in Singapore,” she answered, diving to the right as soon as she finished speaking. She had just slid across the smooth wooden floor when a bullet tore into the back of the sectional near where she had been seconds before. “Not bad for being shot twice,” she commended him, moving along the base of the front of the bar.
“I’ve been shot more times than years you’ve been alive,” he retorted. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I plan on doing worse than that, don’t worry.”
Harry grunted. “When did you know for sure? What gave me away?”
Viper moved around the corner of the end of the bar, pausing against the heavy wood.
“John’s hard-drive. My brother sent the missing piece twelve years ago.”
“Of course he did,” Harry muttered. “I knew there had to be something. John was too damned persistent, right up until I had him killed.”
Viper shook her head, her lips twisting. And there it was. His probe with Dave hadn’t worked, so he was pivoting to John. Hawk had been right the other night, and she was honest enough to admit to herself that that jab would have hit a nerve a few days ago. Now, it only served to irritate her.
She hesitated, her desire for answers warring with her common sense. She didn’t have the time or inclination to chat, but there was one thing she needed to know.
“Why did you allow me into the Organization when you knew you killed my brother?”
“You were Charlie’s pick. I had no say in it. I tried to get rid of you in training, but you’re a stubborn woman and refused to fail.” Harry’s voice was calm and unemotional, as if they were discussing the weather. “In the end, I had to accept it.”
Viper was silent, feeling somewhat deflated at the rather prosaic answer. Somehow, she expected something more intricate than that.
“Don’t you want to know why I did it?” he asked after a second of silence. “Everyone always wants to know why.”
“Honestly? I don’t really give a damn,” she said bluntly. “Money, power, some kind of enlightened higher moral consciousness: I’ve heard it all. None of it matters. You went after my country and my family, and then you came after me. It’s time for you to pay.”
“In my defense, we’re talking about an awful lot of money,” Harry said. “I already had power, my Army career provided that, and I was content. But then Charlie and I had a philosophical disagreement over what direction to take the Organization. It was our brainchild, but he won the President’s favor. It should never have been allowed to function without oversight. We were no better than the lawless bastards we hunted.”
“Why do they always try to justify themselves?” Viper muttered into her mouthpiece to Hawk. She raised the .22, gripping it firmly and sliding her finger over the trigger. Then, raising her voice, “I really don’t care, Harry.”
Spinning around the bar to fire, she squeezed the trigger just as something flashed toward her. Sucking in her breath, she dove to the side as a knife flew past her head. Hitting the wall hard, Viper felt the gun slip from her fingers and she clenched her jaw as pain shot up her wounded side. Her eyes fell to the timer on her watch and she grit her teeth.
“Tell me when you're clear,” she muttered to Hawk, forcing herself to straighten up. Her whole body seemed to be throbbing from that stab wound and she was running low on energy and time. She inhaled, turning resolutely to face Harry.
He was about a foot away with a bottle of vodka in his hand. Blood poured from the gunshot wound in his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice as he brought the bottle down on the edge of the bar. The glass shattered and vodka poured out over the floor as he pivoted swiftly, wielding the deadly sharp, fragmented bottle neck in an arc toward her throat.
Viper threw up an arm to block the blow, but he changed direction at the last second and the makeshift blade sliced down into her thigh, narrowly missing her artery. An involuntary cry ripped out of her as her leg buckled under the sudden onslaught of pain and the damage to her quad muscle.
Lurching to the left, she fell against the bar, her weight falling on the stab wound in her side. Viper bit her lip in agony, reaching under the bar for something, anything she could use as a weapon. Her fingers found nothing and she twisted out of the way just as Harry swung for her neck again with the broken bottle. As it hit the wood instead of her, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the edge of the bar. The glass weapon flew out of his hand to slide across the smooth surface and disappear over the opposite edge. A second later, it hit the floor on the other side of the bar and shattered.
Disarmed, Harry
turned to resort to hand combat, raising his injured arm to block a blow from her right hook. He grunted in pain as her fist slammed into his gunshot wound and stumbled back a step.
“The ship is yours. Make it count.”
Hawk’s voice was deep in her ear and a fresh surge of adrenaline flowed through Viper. She straightened up as much as her battered body would allow and raised deadly eyes to Harry’s.
“You know I will.”
She lunged forward on her injured leg, using her other foot to kick the inside of one of his knees. He wasn’t expecting the move with her injured thigh and she caught him unprepared. Ignoring the pain shooting up her leg, she reached behind her back as Harry let out a scream of pain and his leg buckled. As his leg went out to the side and he fell, Viper pulled out her .45 and fired.
The bullet went through his forehead, blowing the back of his head off. She watched as he fell back, his eyes still open in stunned shock.
“That’s for Dave, you son of a bitch,” she snarled.
Harry’s body hit the floor and the rage that had been simmering inside her for the past month dissipated, expelled from her on the tide of a long exhale. She waited for the heavy feeling of coldness to settle in her gut, as it always did when she killed a target, but there was nothing. There was no feeling of emptiness this time, no sense that part of her had been killed along with Harry. Now, there was only relief. It was over.
Dave and John had been avenged.
Turning away from Harry’s body, Viper limped out from behind the bar and glanced at her watch.
2:45.
With a low curse, she broke into a run, forcing her injured leg to move. Darting into the corridor, she went to the stairwell and held onto the smooth railing as she started down the half-spiral. At the midway point, she leapt over the railing and landed at the bottom of the stairs, biting back a cry of pain. She forced the emotion away; there was no time for it. She had to make it to the deck and her dive bag under the chaise lounge.
Her breath came fast and labored as she ran down the walkway to the stern. A moment later, she hit the outer door and emerged onto the back deck where she had landed less than an hour before. Instead of silence and pitch darkness, she was greeted by the rhythmic churn of propeller blades as she stepped into a flood of unnatural white light.
Despite her pain and the pressing need to get to the bag, Viper’s lips curved faintly. Ah Stephanie. Always so predictable. She knew she wouldn’t stay put in Medford. She had gone to the Coast Guard, just as Viper knew she would.
Crossing the deck to the piece of furniture where she had stashed her bag, she wondered if Blake was with her in the chopper. Probably. He wouldn’t leave her side, not until he knew she wasn’t going to get a bullet in her head.
At least that wasn’t something either of them had to worry about anymore.
She bent down to reach under the rattan chair, grimacing as her thigh buckled. She grabbed the side of the chair, narrowly missing the leg of a corpse draped over the back, and pulled the bag out. Using the chair as support, Viper managed to straighten up without her leg going out on her again. She swung the pack onto her back, tightening the straps as she turned to stride towards the railing. The mask was attached to the outside of the bag with a D-ring and she released it with one hand so that it hung free, ready to be slipped on when she hit the water. It was already connected to the tank and ready to go. All she had to do was get into the water before the charges went off.
Glancing up and into the light, Viper paused when she reached the railing, looking at the helicopter. A sudden wave of remorse crashed over her. She never even said good-bye, and now it was too late. Even if she raised her hand to wave, it could never be nearly enough. What kind of person had she become that she could just leave without saying farewell to her best friend since kindergarten?
Viper pushed the thoughts aside and glanced at her watch.
She was out of time.
Chapter Forty-One
Stephanie felt Blake's fingers close around hers and she looked at him in surprise. He was sitting next to her in the back of the Coast Guard helicopter with a headset covering his ears. They had been airborne for about five minutes now, and she was just getting used to the vibrations and noise that came with the helicopter. She gave him a questioning look and raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“It’s going to be all right,” he said, speaking into the headset.
She smiled tremulously and squeezed his fingers before releasing his hand. She knew he was trying to help, but she seriously doubted that anything could make her feel better right now. Her stomach was tied in knots and her chest hurt from anxiety. She didn’t know which was worse: not knowing what was going on, or realizing that she was about to see firsthand what was happening. She turned her attention out the window and stared into the black void, broken at regular intervals by the flashing lights on the side of the helicopter.
Her headset crackled again and Lt. Miller spoke from the cockpit in front of them.
“A small craft was just seen leaving the area where the Sea Queen is coasting,” he told them.
Stephanie’s heart raced and she looked at Blake hopefully.
“Any word on how many people were in it?” she asked.
“Two people, possibly a man and a woman. Sounds like your civilian made it off.”
Blake sent her a grin as an acute feeling of relief swept over her.
“I told you everything would be fine,” he said. “Michael doesn’t know how to fail.”
“It wasn’t Michael I was worried about. It was everyone else.” She leaned forward and looked toward Lt. Miller in the front. “Any word on anything else? Do we have any idea what’s going on onboard?”
“There’s a report of shots being fired. I’m waiting for confirmation and more information.”
Stephanie sat back, her lips pressed together tightly.
“How long until we reach the area?” Blake asked, seeing the look on her face.
“Another ten minutes.”
Stephanie shook her head and gazed out the window, her jaw clenched. At least Michael had gotten Angela off the boat. That was half the battle. Hopefully he got her off before the shooting started. Stephanie didn’t want to know how Angie would react if she saw someone get shot.
“How do you know shots are being fired?” Blake asked, drawing her attention back from the darkness outside.
“We have a satellite feed. The images are being passed on sporadically, but the last one showed a small boat leaving and indicated shots still being fired onboard.”
“And you still don’t have authorization to send in a team?” Stephanie demanded incredulously. “What the hell are they waiting for?!”
“I wish I knew, Agent Walker,” he replied, the frustration clear in his voice.
Stephanie looked at Blake and saw that his lips were pressed together thoughtfully.
“What are you thinking?”
“Something’s not right,” he said, shaking his head. “Someone’s pulling rank somewhere.”
Stephanie pulled her headset off and motioned for him to do the same so that Lt. Miller couldn’t hear what they said. Once he had, she leaned toward him. He met her halfway.
“You think Lina’s boss is preventing the Coast Guard from moving in?” she demanded into his ear, raising her voice against the sound of the propellers. “Why? To what purpose?”
“Are you kidding me? This is a political and diplomatic nightmare for the White House. Not only is Harry Shore a prominent figure on Capitol Hill and a national hero, but he’s the sitting head of the Department of Homeland Security. Do you have any idea what this scandal will do to the administration if it gets out?”
Stephanie stared at him speechlessly. She had been so focused on the fact that someone was trying to kill her and Alina that it never occurred to her that there were other repercussions to Harry Shore being behind everything. She had certainly not considered the fact that this was somet
hing the administration wouldn’t want made public, let alone Alina’s super-secret organization. No one came out of this looking good.
“Oh my God,” she finally breathed. “I never even thought...”
“If Viper’s boss doesn’t contain this, the backlash will be ungodly.”
Stephanie sat back in her seat, stunned. Her mind was spinning. While she hadn’t considered the ramifications of this entire situation before now, she knew without a doubt that Alina would have. Everything was starting to make sense now. Her and Damon’s insistence that they be the ones to take care of Harry, Michael’s reluctance to argue against them, and even Alina’s ultimate decision to have Michael extract Angela: they all took on a new and disturbing meaning. Over the past few days, Alina had been systematically setting everything up and moving everyone into place so that she could contain this whole situation with the absolute minimum of public exposure possible. By having Michael be the one to get Angela off the yacht, she had even ensured that a member of the Secret Service was the only witness to what was happening, knowing that his very oath of service bound him to protect the White House. Even if he wanted to talk, he would be unable to do so.
“If you’re right, then why are we up here?” she asked, leaning forward again. “I mean, why let us get near the ship if they don’t want anyone involved?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for the past five minutes,” Blake admitted. “I have no idea.”
He pulled the headset back over his ears, and Stephanie did the same with a frown. If Alina’s boss was holding the Coast Guard back, why would he allow them to do a flyover? Her lips tightened and she turned her gaze out the window again, chewing the inside of her bottom lip.
Now that Michael had gotten Angela to safety, any and all restraint that Viper may have been exerting would be gone. Her mind flashed back to that day in the bedroom and she felt a cold chill go through her. Alina was more than ready to face her death, and Stephanie was uncomfortably aware that her old friend wasn’t particularly concerned about going out of her way to prevent it. She thought she deserved it.